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Dane Allred examines the "Abundance" of the universe in his list of "1001 Thanks"
Episodes
Wednesday Jan 04, 2012
Wednesday Jan 04, 2012
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Sonnet LXXXVIII
by William Shakespeare
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn.
With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted,
That thou in losing me shalt win much glory:
And I by this will be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.
Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
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Sonnet 88
Wednesday Jan 04, 2012
Wednesday Jan 04, 2012
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Sonnet LXXXVII
by William Shakespeare
Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.
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Sonnet 87
Tuesday Jan 03, 2012
Tuesday Jan 03, 2012
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Sonnet LXXXVI
by William Shakespeare
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all too precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
He, nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence:
But when your countenance fill'd up his line,
Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine.
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Sonnet 86
Wednesday Dec 28, 2011
Wednesday Dec 28, 2011
This is the entire show of Abundance from December 18th.
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The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
all 154 poems $3.99 DVD with FREE shipping
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Wednesday Dec 28, 2011
Wednesday Dec 28, 2011
Our Journey
I hope you are finding out those things you were sent here to discover,
Achieving those things only you can do,
Finding those opportunities to reconnect with everyone in this world,
Who was with us in the Bright Space.
We were sent here to learn all there is to know,
To return and complete the knowledge we sought
When we left the Bright Space.
We knew we could only learn these things
Alone and apart from each other here on a spinning planet.
We had to leave the perfect peace of the Bright Space to find the answers
This universe is seeking
By manifesting itself in you and me.
Your life is so different from mine,
Even though we seem to spin in the same orbits,
Doing similar things,
Finding similar answers
Reaching similar conclusions.
But you are a unique expression of how this universe wants to learn.
Your experiences add to the combined experiences of all who have ever lived,
Are living now,
And are yet to live.
When that reunion of all of us in the Bright Space takes place,
What a wonderful gathering it will be.
We will understand how our experiences
And the experiences of others
Have fulfilled our wish to know all there is to know.
To experience those things only we could experience
In a way only we could understand.
We are reminded of that elusive goal every time we meet someone,
Who we are sure we have already met.
We were together in the Bright Space before this life,
And the promises we made to each other are fulfilled on those days
When we reach out to that other person,
Reminded of how important this life really is,
Reminded of how important that other person really is,
Reminded that we have a work to do that only we can do;
We glimpse the majesty of this work,
To bring us together again in that Bright Space,
Together, we can see into the future of our universe.
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The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
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Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
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Sonnet LXXXV
by William Shakespeare
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
I think good thoughts whilst other write good words,
And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen'
To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,'
And to the most of praise add something more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
Then others for the breath of words respect,
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
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Sonnet 85
Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
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Sonnet LXXXIV
by William Shakespeare
Who is it that says most? Which can say more
Than this rich praise, that you alone are you?
In whose confine immured is the store
Which should example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory;
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, so dignifies his story,
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admired everywhere.
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.
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Sonnet 84
Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
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Sonnet LXXXIII
by William Shakespeare
I never saw that you did painting need
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt;
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself being extant well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
When others would give life and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
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Sonnet 83
Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
Tuesday Dec 27, 2011
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Sonnet LXXXII
by William Shakespeare
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise,
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days
And do so, love; yet when they have devised
What strained touches rhetoric can lend,
Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend;
And their gross painting might be better used
Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.
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Sonnet 82
Monday Dec 26, 2011
Monday Dec 26, 2011
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Sonnet LXXXI
by William Shakespeare
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen--
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
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Sonnet 81